


Black Socks Never Get Dirty

by Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)



Series: Unconnected Phil Coulson Fics [12]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU- medieval fantasy, Bittersweet, M/M, Ronin Clint Barton, Wild misuse of dashes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia
Summary: Of all the inns in all the realms, he had to ride to this one.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: Unconnected Phil Coulson Fics [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709944
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Black Socks Never Get Dirty

**Author's Note:**

> There are references to sex, but it fades from/to black.

“Oh, no.”

“What?” May asks Phil, checking the corners of the stable before facing the door, her body loose and ready the way it is when she thinks trouble is coming. 

And she’s not wrong. 

Not exactly. 

“I recognize that horse.”

“Which— Oh, no. No, Phil, I’m not going to sit by while you make eyes at Robin Hood.”

“He’s not Robin Hood, he’s a mercenary, and I do _not_ make eyes at him.”

“Hey, Skye!” May calls out to their Seer.

“No, don’t—”

“May? What’s wrong,” Phil’s kind of proud of the way Skye clocks the stable like May had, though unlike her, hasn’t been around long enough to know Phil’s storied history with Barton.

“That’s Ronin’s horse.”

“It— what? He’s here? Are we going to arrest him? Is that why we came all the way out into the middle of nowhere?”

“No, we aren’t going to arrest him,” Phil says with exasperation, “There aren’t any warrants out for him.”

“For now,” May says darkly. 

Phil gives her a look but doesn’t rise to the bait. He likes to think he’s matured enough over the years to know better.

“Also, Farmington isn’t the middle of nowhere.”

“There are zero ley lines. Zero. I’m basically useless here.”

“You’re not useless. There’s more than enough ambient mana for our purposes. Also, May says your hand to hand is coming along nicely. We’ll make you a White Sock yet.”

Fury hates the term ‘White Sock’, which is why Phil tries to use it as often as possible. 

What had initially begun as a cost saving venture by the Treasury decades ago, horses with white hocks having been significantly cheaper in the realm. It had taken off, to the point where King Howard had become amused with it and, to the objection of the Royal Treasurer, and commissioned Vanican leather boots for all his Shieldbearers. The boots aren’t cheap and now there’s a premium on the horses as well, so the whole thing pretty much backfired on the Treasury. 

It’s not like House Stark can’t afford it. 

“What would you know about mana?”

“I know things,” Phil says defensively.

“— Unconscionable. Ichabod is as much a horse as any living—”

“—Animal, yes, but he still makes the living—”

“—Uncomfortable, but that’s not his fault. He shouldn’t have to—”

“—Suffer; but he doesn’t _actually_ feel—“

“—the elements, I know, I know. At least he has—”

“Pinocchio for company,” Apparently it's Fitz’s turn to finish a sentence. 

“FitzSimmons,” Phil says, “I take it your mounts are secure?”

“Yes, there’s a small—”

“—Copse—”

Phil interrupts Fitz with a raised hand, “One at a time, please?”

“Do you want to?”

“No, no. You go ahead, Fitz.”

“Are you sure, because—”

“ _Leo_.”

Fitz clears his throat, “Ahem, yes, sir. Jemma and I have secured our horses—

Skye snorts; she hasn’t yet gotten used to the idea of the skeleton and the automaton as ‘horses’. 

Fitz gives her a wounded look but doesn’t pause, “—Behind the inn. I’ve set Pinocchio’s alarm spell just in case but with Ichabod next to him I doubt anyone will approach them,” he touches Simmons’ shoulder, “They’ll be fine.”

“I know. I just worry. I know there’s nothing to actually worry about.”

Phil, May, and Skye share a look.

“What? What was that look?”

“Ronin’s here.”

“Ronin?! The Ronin? The man who—”

“Yes, that Ronin,” Phil interrupts again. He’s found that interrupting FitzSimmons is better than letting them get started.

“Is that why we’re here, sir?”

“No. There’s been reports of strange weather patterns in the area. Fury wants us to make sure they’re natural. If someone is responsible for them then we’re to assess their threat level and determine if they are a danger to the realm.”

“Isn’t Ronin a danger to the realm?” Skye asks.

“No, just to Coulson.”

“May. No, he’s not. Just leave him alone and he’ll leave us alone.”

It’s May’s turn to snort but Phil stares her down, holding his ground. 

The last thing Phil needs is Clint Barton complicating things. 

~~~

Phil wakes to the smell of bacon and stretches, pleasantly sore in places that haven’t been sore in quite a while.

“Hmm, smells good,” he says, coming up behind Clint and wrapping his arms around him, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. 

“I thought we might enjoy breaking our fast in the room? Your team…”

“Can be a bit much, I know. But they’re good people. You should come with us.”

Clint stiffens, “Lets not fight.”

For a second, Phil’s ready to push back, but then he lets it go, “Alright.”

Clint turns in Phil’s arms and cups his face before kissing him. Phil opens up under Clint’s mouth, kissing back, all soft lips and happy murmurs as Clint starts walking him backwards towards the bed.

“What about breakfast?” Phil asks.

“Breakfast can wait.”

Phil clings to him, knowing that they won’t actually get to breakfast, that Clint will make love to him and then make his way out the window, leaving Phil to wonder if and when their paths will cross again. 

He sighs into the next kiss and then rolls them so that he’s on top. 

Best to make the most of it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please let me know if you see any typos I’ve missed. 💕


End file.
